


Aurin, Ilo, and Risa Drabbles

by RittaPokie



Series: Tales From the Dragon Age [15]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-29
Updated: 2018-01-29
Packaged: 2019-03-11 06:50:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 3,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13518801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RittaPokie/pseuds/RittaPokie





	1. He's Not That Slick, Quiz

“I can’t believe this!” Risa says, shutting the door behind her as she enters Ilo’s quarters. Ilo barely glances up from the bowl of soup she’d been admiring while it cooled. “Solas is Fen'Harel.” She lowers her voice, wanting only Ilo to hear.

“Mm.” Ilo barely reacts. She does look at her cousin thoughtfully. Risa is handling the loss of her arm quite well. Risa looks stupefied by Ilo’s lack of reaction. Ilo throws her arms up and then puts her hands on either side of her face in feigned shock. “Oh, by the creators! How could such a thing be true?” Then she drops her hands back to the table.

“You knew? Did he tell you?” Risa’s lisp slips through in the quickness of her words.

“He didn’t have to.” Ilo says. “It’s as if no one else noticed how he hinted at it all the time. The wolf jaw bone, the questions about tricksters, his hatred of the dalish elves, his unreasonably thorough knowledge of the fade. The paintings, Risa, the paintings. And in the temple of Mythal, saying Fen'Harel was misunderstood as a trickster when he was really the god of rebellion. At the very least someone other than me must have suspected it."

“I thought perhaps he was a sympathizer, but not that he is Fen'Harel.” Ilo shakes her head. “Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

“I made numerous hints to him that I knew, and he seemed very skittish about it. I assumed he didn’t want anyone to know.” Ilo shrugs. “With good reason, really. The dalish aren’t known for their tact in dealing with the world and probably would’ve stormed Haven to get at him before Corypheus even had the chance.”

“You knew that soon?” Risa sits and puts her head in her hands. “You’re right. The signs were all there. How did I not notice?”

“You were a bit preoccupied. End of the world and all that.” Ilo laughs.

“So he is never going to come back to us, is he?” Risa says, her expression more somber.

“He made that pretty clear.” Ilo says, and though her voice doesn’t betray her, Risa knows her cousin’s heart is broken.

“Maybe he would if..if he knew.” She places her hand on Ilo’s swollen belly, but Ilo swats her hand away.

“The world will soon know he is Fen'Harel. Scouts always follow the inquisitor.” She sighs. “It’s best the world think this child belongs to someone else.”


	2. Elgar'nan's Cock

“What do you think mamae would say if she knew I was carrying these around?” Aurin says, placing six wolf figurines in a row on the table in front of them. “Just like our father? Bound to lead a life of misfortune? One of these was his.” He picks up the oldest looking one. It’s worn and cracked.

“She’d burn them.” Ilo replies. “Like she tried to do with that one before you were born.”

“Why was he so obsessed, sister?” he asks, setting the figure back down.

“Why are you?” She counters.

“Why am I? He instilled it in us. Wolves, the pack mentality. He was a shape shifter, very fond of his wolves.”

“Perhaps it was meant as a lesson, not to judge even your enemy by their past.” Aurin sighs, sitting back and staring at the figures. “I keep thinking, with every one I find, that I’ll find some…some answer, some insight. That I’ll see what he saw.”

“Maybe you’re seeking something that doesn’t exist, maybe he just liked wolves.” Ilo says. She points at one made of marble. “Where’d you get that one?”

“Val Royeux. Traded it for silk.” He answers. “I don’t know why they have one. Humans don’t seem all that interested in nature and animals.”

“In Orlais, especially. They think animals are filthy.” Ilo scoffs. “What a petty, self absorbed country. I can’t believe they’ve managed to be a country for this long.”

“Look at you, learning shemlen politics. Lethallin, you’re beginning to sound like Cullen.” Aurin laughs.

“Elgar'nan’s cock, you’re right. Soon I’ll be telling passersby to form a decent phalanx.” She says, mocking the commander’s tone.

“Here, sister.” He slides the oldest figurine across the table to her. “He’d want you to have it.”

“I did, until you were old enough, then I gave it to you. You should have it, you’re more like father than I am.” She picks it up anyway and turns it over in her hands.

“Keep it for a while, at least until Corypheus is defeated.” he says. “For luck.”

“Fen'Harel, for luck.” She shakes her head, amused. “Well, this thing has survived mamae trying to destroy it all these years, maybe it is lucky. Or it just attracts destruction.”

“Both, perhaps.” Aurin sighs, “Though it’s not as if it helped father much, in the end.”

“He didn’t have it that day.” She says, causing her brother to perk up and stare at her in confusion. “His brother was ill, he left it with him. Perhaps I will keep for now, just to be safe. But you do me a favor, don’t die on me?”

“You gave it to me and you didn’t die, so I think we’re safe.” Aurin scoffs. “It’s coincidence. There’s no such thing as luck.”

“I was pretty lucky to survive the conclave.” She says, still staring at the figurine.

“You were also very unlucky to be given the mark.” Aurin says. “Arrested, facing execution, somehow made it out of all that just fine. You’re like that figure, there. Were you also made for Fen'Harel?”

It’s a joke, but it hits deeply. She wonders, as she always does. “Maybe so.” His brows knit for a second at her sincerity, but he lets it go, sensing she wouldn’t elaborate anyway. “Thank you, da'len.”

He rolls his eyes and crosses his arms. “I’m not a child, sister. I earned my vallaslin.” she laughs and he grumbles.


	3. Daughter of the Wolf

Ilo hears the door click shut and turns on her heels. The wolf pup whimpers in her arms and squirms. She senses the danger.

"What is that?" Ilo's mother asks, punctuating each word. "We've all heard the rumors, but I never expected... I thought you'd have better sense-"

" _This_ is my child, mamae. Whatever you think she is, she is mine and I will love her-"

"That _thing_ is an abomination. It should be killed."

"No. I won't let that happen. That's why I haven't told anyone who her father is. What a curse it would be for her-"

"To be the daughter of the dread wolf would be a curse, one you placed upon her." Her words are venomous.

" _No_. To never know her father, to have everyone who looks like her want her dead, to be called an abomination just for existing. She's only a child, she has done nothing wrong."

"No, but you have. You've stained your entire clan with this act. That you allow it to live curses us all."

"She is _mine_ too, not just his."

"And that'll save her from the dread wolf? No, she'll only be foolish as well as cursed, like her mother."


	4. Welcome Home

The worn stone is smooth beneath her feet as she pads down the city streets. She is unarmed. Coming here was risk enough without a staff. She knows magic is unwelcome in this city. The caravan she had departed with was destined for a safer village, and she was to go with them, but the lure of the city she was born in was too great.

She wanders until she finds herself at the docks, looking out over the sea. The wind blows in from the South, a soft chill on her face. "New to the city?" A man in heavy armor asks, coming to stand next to her. He towers at least a foot and a half over her head and she has to crane her neck to meet his gaze. "Many say the view loses its charm after a while."

The hairs on the back of her neck prickle when she sees the symbol of a flamed sword on his chest plate. "I don't see how." She says.

"You're Dalish, are you not?" He asks, looking down at her. His hair is graying flames, framing piercing blue eyes.

She nods. "Risa, of clan Lavellan."

"Kaegan Trevelyan." He inclines his head as a bow. "I'd suggest you not stay long." He says sternly. "City's not safe for those like you. Especially not if you want to keep appreciating views like this."

His eyes speak much more than his words. She swallows hard. _He knows_. How could he know? She was so careful! He smiles when she gapes at him. "H-how did you-"

"Hush, child." He says. "I've been at this a long time. I know the callouses on your hands, the soft fear in your eyes, the darkness under your eyes from sleepless nights. I will not speak of you to the others, but I cannot stop them from noticing."


	5. Pretty Lights

"Oh, I didn't think anyone saw me..." She sniffs, wiping at the tears that had started falling as soon as she shut the door to the closet.

"No one else did." He assures her, green eyes full of concern. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, I- just a bit overwhelmed." She nods and takes a deep breath. "I needed to be somewhere five people weren't all talking to me at once. All eyes are on me out there...I knew it would be that way, but I...I don't know if I can do this."

"Just breathe." He says. "Everyone thinks you've disappeared on some sort of important business."

"Thank you." Her breathing slows to a normal rate and she shuts her eyes. "I'm just-just _sick of it_. Asking to see the mark, trying to _touch_ it, telling me I'm lucky for what has happened-they have no idea. It _hurts_ and it is cruel in its power, and... and all they see-"

"Are pretty lights." He finishes for her. "I understand."

Her eyes open and she smiles a bit, tension leaving her frame. "Suppose you do, don't you..." She eyes the white lines on his skin, the soft glow that is invisible in the light now illuminating them in a blue haze. "Does it ever get easier?"

"Having a powerful burden you didn't ask for, didn't want, no. Dealing with people who don't understand, yes." He says. "Eventually you learn to tell them to fuck off."

\---

He returns to Dahlia leaning against a far wall. She smirks at him when she sees him. "Why are you so smug?" He asks.

"Oh, no reason." She says in a sing-song voice. "Just that you like her."

"She is a respectable young woman. Is there a reason I shouldn't?" He sighs. He knows where his friend's mind has gone.

"But you _like_ her." She snickers.


	6. First Love

"You are staring." Aurin says to his companion. He means nothing by it, really. It is unreasonable to be jealous...they have been together for a few months now. Ferren seems committed.

"He's beautiful, why wouldn't I?" Ferren asks, his tone sharp.

"He is..." Aurin ignores the bite in the other's words. He glances at the person in question when he looks their way, and they share a soft smile.

Ferren scoffs when the person passes out of their view. "I don't know why you're looking, though. It's not as if you'd stand a chance."

"That's-" the words cut deep and he bites his lip to keep tears out of his eyes. "I-that's not true."

"I-I-isn't it?" Ferren snaps, mimicking Aurin's stuttering. "You're so full of yourself."

Aurin feels his cheeks heat up in embarrassment and he looks down at his feet. "Sorry..."

"Hey, now." Ferren tips Aurin's face up with fingers gently under his chin. "I love you, you know that. Even if you are a selfish prick with a splotchy face."


	7. Game of Hearts and Lies

“You left this behind.” Solas says, holding out a small glass figurine. “Yesterday.”

Ilo knows precisely where she left the little glass wolf, and why. They've been playing this game of chicken for months now. She had gotten Cassandra and Blackwall to inspect the surrounding area, the poisonous waters below the little shrine, while she placed the glass figure. She knows Solas saw her, made sure of it. She has to fight not to let her eyes flick to the jawbone he wears around his neck.

“Vhenan?”

She shakes her head lightly, clearing her wandering thoughts. “It was a gift.” She says. She holds eye contact with him, and waits for his response, his move in this game they're playing.

He looks at the figurine in his hand, then back at her. It's become clear that putting him on the spot like this takes him out of his comfort zone. She has tried being more subtle and gentle in the past, but she is growing impatient with his unnecessary secrecy.

“You know that was a offering place to Fen’Harel, do you often leave gifts in such places?” He asks.

He knows the answer to that. Her family is and always has been unusual, which is why she has the wolf figure in the first place. She and her brother were always mildly skeptical of her father’s belief that Fen’Harel was misunderstood, likely due to their mother’s vehement, perhaps obsessive hatred of the Dread Wolf.

“When it suits me.” She says. “Why did you take it?”

It's a question he won't answer without lying or deflecting, she knows. “Isn't a wolf a tad on the nose?”

“Do you think it's inappropriate?”

“No.” He says. “I would not want anyone to get the wrong idea about you.”

“Cassandra and Blackwall didn't understand the meaning behind any of it.” She counters. He is silent for a moment, so she continues, “I doubt they even know who Fen’Harel is. Or perhaps they do.”

He never shrinks away from her subtle, at times cryptic, accusations. She thinks perhaps he should, if he truly wants to be seen as someone other than who he is. “Humans rarely do.” He settles on, finally.

“You should keep it.” She says, bringing the subject back to the figure. “It's supposedly good luck.”

“Ah, but it wasn't meant for me.”

“I might have left it for you.” She says, and he goes silent again. “You were watching when I put it down, after all.”

She leaves him before he can try and insist she take it back. There is a quiet, secluded spot in Skyhold that few know about. The nooks and crannies of the storage hold below the fortress are well known to her. She finds a dark corner and sits, holding her head in her hands. The game she is playing with her lover is growing evermore tiresome. There is no need for his secrecy, not with her, as she already knows who he is. He clearly doesn't trust her, or perhaps believes he is saving her from the guilt of knowing. She isn't sure which she despises more.

Her mother always took great care in keeping others safe from the gaze of the Dread Wolf, but she took even greater care to warn her daughter. There was much talk of wolves being beautiful creatures, and that beauty and grace did not make anything less dangerous-in fact, often it makes things more dangerous. Her brother was spared the harassment, almost as if her mother could sense danger in her future. Still, despite it all, Ilo has welcomed the man she knows is Fen’Harel into her life, her bed, her dreams… He knows her, truly and deeply, and she fears she doesn't know him at all. He knows her secret fears and desires, her hiding places. He could find her now, if he wished.

There was a time that she was content to let the secrecy continue. She knew he didn't feel safe in this world, and so she didn't hold it against him. Now, though, she is inquisitor, the most powerful person in the civilized world. She could keep him safe, she could always have kept his secret. The fact that he still won't tell is beginning to feel less like secrecy and more like deception. She can feel resentment building in her heart, despite the love she has for him.

And it's the love, not the animosity, that scares her most of all. It makes her vulnerable. Specifically, it makes her vulnerable to someone who is lying to her. A loving relationship should feel safe, should be one on even ground. It shouldn't include this game they're playing.


	8. Strategy Games

She is still keeping an eye on the Tevinter that has joined them. No, she doesn’t believe that he has any ill ulterior motives, but his presence may draw in those who do. Her brother has begun forging a timid friendship with Dorian, saying that their father told him of “the snake” and how this snake could help them. The Pavus crest includes snakes, so she can see why Aurin would think this is who their father mentioned. It seems reasonable enough to think so, but she can’t be sure. She finds it difficult to trust anyone on a good day, let alone the son of a Tevinter magister, former apprentice of someone who lured her into a Venatori trap.

Dorian spends much of his day in the library, reading, she knows. When he isn’t there, he’s trying very hard to make friends-but not so hard that it looks like he’s making an effort. Currently, he and her commander are locked in a game of chess. It isn’t their first, and certainly won’t be their last. Cullen trusts him well enough, and that eases her worry somewhat. She and the commander don’t always see eye to eye, but she does value his judgement.

Cullen’s face is incredibly smug, so she assumes he must be winning. “Gloat all you like, I have this one.” Cullen says.

Dorian is, as usual, a visage of unreadable amusement. “Are you sassing me, commander? I didn’t know you had it in you.”

She has been eavesdropping on them for long enough, she decides, and finally approaches them.

“Why do I even-” Cullen starts, but her arrival prompts him to stop. “Inquisitor.” He makes a move to stand.

“Leaving, are you? Does this mean I win?” Dorian asks, and for a breath, Cullen is caught in indecisiveness.

“Please, don’t stop on my account.” She says, and he relaxes, sitting back down. It doesn’t surprise her that the commander enjoys a leisure activity that requires strategy and planning, and she would do nothing to discourage it. In fact, she is pleased that her tactician is practicing, even with play.

“Alright, your move.” Cullen says.

“You need to come to terms with my inevitable victory. You’ll feel much better.” Dorian says. The board tells another story, and she remarks to herself that Dorian’s easy confidence even in the face of defeat reminds her a bit of her father. It is easier not to falter when you know the outcome, good or bad.

“Really? Because I just won, and I feel fine.” Cullen says, a smirk on his face.

“Don’t get smug. There will be no living with you.” If he is disappointed at having lost, it doesn’t show. Though she suspects he is just happy to have interacted with someone at all. Many here are wary of him and avoid him, herself included. Still, he nods to her politely in greeting as he passes.

“I should get back to my duties as well… unless you would care for a game?” Cullen says.

She considers declining, but she may never get such a proper chance to test Cullen’s ability as a tactician personally. “Prepare the board, commander.”

“As a child, I played this with my sister. She would get this stuck-up grin when she won, which was all the time.” He says. “My brother and I practiced together for weeks. The look on her face when I finally won… Between serving with the templars and the inquisition, I haven’t seen them in years. I wonder if she still plays.”

She is unsure how to respond to such talk. Cullen isn’t usually one for such emotional talk, so she chances that he would rather just leave it at that. “Let’s see what you got.” He seems content enough not to continue the deeper conversation. They both stay heavily focused on the game, occasionally discussing minor details of their upbringings. He inquires about her brother-no doubt because Aurin practiced blood magic earlier in their time with the inquisition, and she about his siblings.

“This may be the longest we’ve gone without discussing the Inquisition or related matters.” He says. “To be honest, I appreciate the distraction.”

She does as well, but considers the work of the Inquisition more important than the wellbeing of any one person, including her own. “We both have work to do.” She says. “There’s nothing wrong with focusing on it.”

“True.” He agrees.

They play in silence for a while longer, and eventually she bests him. Out of the corner of her eye, she spots Solas. He occasionally checks in on her when he thinks that she won’t notice, but he underestimates her skills of observation. They’ve only gotten keener in recent months, partly due to his continued secrecy.

“I believe this one is yours.” Cullen says. “Well played.”

“Thank you.” She says, and her gaze flicks to level with Solas’ as Cullen studies the board. “I’ve always been good at strategy games.”


	9. Forward

"I think many of the guests think we should find a room to ourselves." Risa says, taking a sip of her wine. "Quite scandalous."

The Duke chuckles and glances around the room quickly. "They will think whatever they want, Lady Lavellan."

"If they're going to think it anyway, why shouldn't we?" She says over the rim of her goblet. The Duke almost looks flustered, _almost_. "I'm _joking_. Well, mostly."

"You are something else." He says, shaking his head. "I do not think it would be wise to risk a love affair similar to my cousin's."

Risa hums thoughtfully. "Who said anything about love? We're both far to busy for romance. I'm just trying to get into your pants."

He chuckles again, shifting his eyes to his feet for a second before returning his gaze to her. "You are very forward, Inquisitor."

"It's gotten me this far." She shrugs. "You don't have to decide yet."


End file.
